


interrupted picnics

by eriscore



Series: time warp [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1940s, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Gen, POV Regulus Black, POV Tom Riddle, Regulus Black-centric, Riddle at Hogwarts Era, Sane Tom Riddle, Time Travel, Tom Riddle-centric, and i want reg and tom in the same year, bc the chamber incident is the only interesting thing to happen at hogwarts, regulus is aged down to 16
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27788878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eriscore/pseuds/eriscore
Summary: Tom wades into the water and grabs a hold of the boy, man, teenager and drags him out of the lake. The stranger’s bleeding from numerous wounds and very clearly not breathing. Well, he has to at least try to do something. Especially if those are real pearls being used as buttons for the boy’s silk shirt.Or: Regulus wakes up in the Crystal Cave in 1942.
Relationships: Regulus Black & Tom Riddle
Series: time warp [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033083
Comments: 5
Kudos: 66





	interrupted picnics

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Drowning, blood, vomit. Depictions are not very graphic though.

Tom would’ve taken the idea of church camp out of Mrs. Cole’s head already if he wasn’t such a nostalgic soul. The camp is at a seaside village they visit once every year in the summer and it’s where Tom first displayed his magic.

The beach also hosts the cave where he deeply traumatized two children. Well, that sounds bad, he’d been a child himself and actually younger than his victims, and it’s been almost 10 years so honestly Amy and Dennis can get over it already.

Anyway, Tom’s fond of the flooded cave and the only other people who know of it avoid both it and him vehemently. It’s rather inaccessible without magic as well, so it’s a very private place.

Which, thank Merlin, because privacy is hard to come by in the orphanage and magic has to remain a secret for obvious reasons. Not only would the smaller orphans screech like the devil spawn they are and bully him into conjuring stupid things, he’d be expelled. And arrested. And quite a few young minds would be irreparably damaged by the Obliviators.

Tom slips away to his cave as soon as morning prayer ends. He brings a knitted blanket, a very annotated _Compendium of Dark Transfigurations_ , and food that he rather daringly nicked if he says so himself, since Mrs. Cole has taken to keeping track of their rations with an uncharacteristically sharp eye. Tom’s one of the oldest, so he graciously takes only a couple baked goods and leaves the rest for the other, smaller and more-budding thieves. Never say that Tom Riddle is a cruel boy.

He floats down the jagged cliff, almost slips when he lands on a particularly wet stone, almost slips again from overcorrecting, and enters the cave. A peaceful two hours go by of Tom cramming more notes in the margins of his book, his view lit by a floating _lumos_ he conjured wandlessly, while nibbling on a scone. He refuses to admit he’s picnicking in a dark and damp cave, because he’s actually _researching very dangerous spells and it’d be foolish to do so on an empty stomach_.

His research is interrupted by a sound in a place where there should be no sounds that haven’t come from Tom himself. There’s a small lap of waves against the island from a disturbance in the lake’s surface. He directs the floating _lumos_ over the water.

It’s a person. Drowning, obviously, or already drowned actually since the erratic movements have stopped. Tom thinks he would’ve noticed someone drowning for a consecutive two hours, so did they apparate? He hadn’t heard a crack or anything though.

He wades into the water and grabs a hold of the boy, man, _teenager_ and drags him out of the lake. The stranger’s bleeding from numerous wounds and very clearly not breathing.

Well, he has to at least _try_ to do something. Especially if those are real pearls being used as buttons for the boy’s silk shirt.

Tom, very daintily, pulls his sleeve over his hand and wipes the other boy’s mouth and hopes very hard that he isn’t actually about to kiss a dead body. Or, well, breathe air into one. An unconscious one would be much more preferable than a dead one, is all.

As he attempts to breathe air into the boy’s lungs, there’s a glow in the corner of his eye. When he looks over, there’s a warm light coming from the boy’s chest. His lungs, he realizes, like he’s breathing Life into him instead of oxygen.

The boy starts and Tom turns him over onto his side so he doesn’t drown in all the water he’s coughing up. When he’s done retching, he looks down at his dimming chest and back up at Tom and grimaces.

“Fuck,” he mutters with a very hoarse and barely audible voice. “Sorry, I’m Regulus. It seems as if I am in your Debt.”

“Tom Riddle. Do you mean a Life Debt?”

He only nods with a strange expression on his face and quickly moves on, “Have you seen my wand?”

“It’s probably still in the lake,” Tom waves a hand to where he was drowning.

Regulus somehow manages to look even more pained as he stares out into the water. There’s a beat of silence, Tom figures he’s processing his near-death, before Regulus reaches out a pale, shaky hand and his wand comes flying into it.

He’s only mildly impressed. Most of his peers can’t manage wandless or wordless magic, even though Tom’s been doing it since he was a child.

Regulus grabs his hand, keeping a firm grip even as he recoils, and motions for Tom to help him up. As soon as they’re on their feet, Tom feels a weird sensation, as if his ears popped but it’s his entire body, and he doubles over, trying not to vomit on the sand. There’s a thud next to him as Regulus loses his balance from exhaustion of both the magical and non-magical variety.

Apparition, he thinks wildly. Silent apparition, is that a testament to Regulus’ magical skill?

Probably not, since he’s turned to his side to sick something up again while bleeding out.

“Do… you need a place to stay?” Tom asks with very false hesitance. He likes to keep track of his assets and a wizard under Life Debt is very much one of them.

Maybe he should save people more often.

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Regulus pants out from where he’s lying down next to his _smoking, bright green vomit what the hell_ . “M’sure-- Sorry, _I am_ sure that your family isn’t in the mood to nurse a stranger to health.”

“I live at an orphanage, actually, and Mrs. Cole will be too drunk to notice an extra child.”

“Oh. Alright then,” he holds out a hand. When Tom doesn’t take it, he lets out a little laugh and gets up on his own. “Do you mind if I lean on you?”

Tom does mind but he wisely keeps his mouth shut and slings an arm over Regulus’ shoulder. He half-drags Regulus to the church camp and thanks Merlin that all the adults and littler orphans are still too caught up in their Good Catholic Fun (an oxymoron, the only Catholic fun he’s had are exorcisms and those were traumatizing) to take notice. The older ones glance at the pair before getting back to haggling with Billy over his nicked beer prices. As if two baseball cards are enough for a bottle.

When they enter his cabin, there’s a pecking at the window. Tom leaves Regulus to drop unceremoniously on the bed while he opens the window for the owl to fly in and settle itself on a bed post. The bird coos worryingly at Reg who waves it off.

“That’s probably the Ministry,” Regulus groans and drags a bloodied hand down his face, wincing when it passes over his cuts. “I’m terribly sorry about this, but it’s not like there were many ways out of that cave.”

Tom refrains from mentioning his flying abilities. At least, he reassures himself when he takes the letter from the owl, he has proof that it was someone else that committed it if he has a need for a hearing.

_Mr. Riddle,_

_We have received intelligence that Apparition was performed near your location this morning at twenty-two minutes past ten. As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school nor are they permitted to Apparate. While illegal Apparition would be cause for expulsion from said school and a fine, the Ministry has recognized that non-magical Britain is under an emergency state and has therefore granted you lenience._

_We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community is a serious offence under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks’ Statute of Secrecy and is punishable with a sentence in Azkaban._

_Regards,_

_Frank R. Montgomery_

Tom crumples the parchment and sets it ablaze with a wandless _incendio_. “It’s fine, it’s just a warning. We should get you cleaned up.”

Regulus pushes himself off the bed, looks down at the red sheets and opens his mouth before closing it again. A staggering amount of grief crosses his face, but in the blink of an eye, it’s replaced with a blank, unassuming expression.

The owl lets itself out as Tom leads a hobbling Regulus to the bathroom. He pulls out the medical kit, tucked away in the very back of the cabinet, while Regulus strips. Tom does his best to observe him with clinical objectivity, but honestly, the boy was hiding a proper _mauling_ under his clothes. The scratches are in a countless number, varying in sizes and depth, and there are bruises (hand-shaped, Tom notices with a nauseating curl around his insides) to match.

He also has a snake tattoo on his left forearm, but Tom’s not judging. He’s heard of magical tattoos before actually, but whatever magic was in Regulus’ has died somehow. Or it was never magical, but Tom doesn’t see the point of that.

It’s slow work, even with the two of them carefully bandaging each set of wounds. They’re not professionals, have no idea what to do with the joints and the cuts that reach up into Regulus’ face, but they’re done soon enough. Instead of looking mauled, Regulus looks like a mummy.

He borrows Tom’s clothes, a worn jumper and trousers, and sits on the still-red sheets as he rather clumsily stitches up the tears in his clothes. When Tom finally gets off the floor from his five-minute break to pull at the sheets, Regulus simply stands up and stands there, continuing his clumsy stitching.

Which, rude, but Tom’s had laundry duty with bloody sheets before and he doubts Regulus would know how to, at least manually, clean blood out of fabrics. Unfortunately, that means Tom’s going to have to teach him if he’s planning on staying.

**Author's Note:**

> Tom: He's under Life Debt, so now he has to listen to everything I say  
> Regulus: I am under Life Debt, so I am now your problem.
> 
> Next up, Regulus sends a couple letters after a trip to Gringotts.


End file.
